Mir Lovric
Mir Lovric A cheerful crusading cleric of Lathander. |rules = 3.5 |alignment = Chaotic Good |patron deity = Lathander |languages = Common, Damaran, Chodathan, Celestial }} Personality Impassioned and zealous, Mir is ardent in her faith and strives to emulate Lathander in the manner she bears herself within the world. Where some might fault the god and think that he let her parents die, Mir seeks only to honour him and her parent’s faith which held true even beyond the grave. Her anger is reserved solely for the undead that took her family, and those that would do similar to others. She is a creative woman, fond of stained glass windows and sculptures. Given to writing hymns and humming while pitching up camp for the night, her melodic voice is a blessing in itself, and one she does not only reserve for uttering the praises to Lathander which are with her, always. Beyond her devotion, Mir is a playful woman, given to light-hearted humour and wearing, constantly, a soft smile. She strives to laugh, no matter how grim life can be, and retains a cheerful optimism in her heart no matter how poor a given situation might become. In her soul, she knows that the worse that can happen to her will simply send her to the heavens to rejoin her mother and be with her god. Thus, she can be reckless in her efforts to protect those that need protecting or who are in need. She does not stand for bullying or remain quiet and complacent when faced with miscarriages of justice. Nor does she tolerate wanton acts of destruction. She is, in her heart, sworn to protect life and champion good, she does this, often at tremendous personal cost. While she venerates Lathander, she honours the Triad Gods as well, recognising the values of justice, vigilance and mercy. She is, as a friend, dedicated and loyal. Optimistic yet truthful, creative and joyous in her bearing. She does not over-indulge in wine or food, nor cheat when playing dice (which she enjoys placing small wagers on). She can be stubborn and more than a little self-righteouss as the other side to her celestial shines. At its brightest, she is judgemental and zealous, unforgiving of sins and narrow-minded with regard to the use of necromancy, or the exploitative practices of corrupt nobles and magistrates. Wary of those that seek power for themselves, winning her friendship is easy but earning her trust is a task in itself for several times, in her adventures, she has been led astray and had to hunt down former companions that exploited her naivety – which she can still be prone to. She believes that violence is the course of action only once diplomacy has failed and favours negotiation to skull cracking. Appearance Appearance: play-by: Mirander Kerr. Mir is a tall woman, standing at 5 feet, 8 inches. Her skin is smooth and ivory-pale, flecked through with silver that reflects her heritage. With large blue-green eyes, full and shapely lips and high cheekbones, she is easily thought of as being born of noble blood and in two ways, she is. Of noble birth through her father, and celestial birth through her mother, she bears herself with an innate dignity. Mir is usually seen smiling such that her eyes sparkle with a hidden humour – as though she knows a great and vast secret that she is itching, inside, to share and yet cannot find the words for. Lean in build and toned by the years of adventuring, Mir is not the most homely woman or graceful being in the world – far from it – rather, she moves with the steady confidence of a skilled warrior and seems ever watchful of the world around her which she is ready to greet with a barely caged ferocity and divine fury should it be found wanting. Her hair is long, yet kept in a tight braid when she is in environs she does not fully trust, she is never seen without her exquisite holy symbol around her neck, indeed, it is the same symbol that matches the perfect scar on her left palm, though over the years, that flesh has come to bear the brand with dignity. She is, at once, breathtakingly beautiful and radiant. Swathed in an apparent aura of goodness which surrounds her. Her heritage, can also be heard in the richness of her voice when she gives it over to song or, indeed, chooses to speak in her melodic tones. History Mir was born in the year, 1350DR. The only child of a paladin of Lathander, and a Morning Lord. The small family, which had been travelling before her mother, Mir, became pregnant moved back to Damara, intending to settle down and build a small church to their God. The land they came back to was, however, ill suited to such domestic goals. Despite their hopes finding a bleak truth in that cold land, the young couple drew mace and sword once more. The church they built sat on the edge of those territories occupied by Vassa’s undead. A shinging beacon to Lathander that dared the undead to challenge their Gods might. Perhaps, had Mir’s pregnancy not given their adventuring days a deadline, that occupation might have been drawn to an end years before it was. As it was, the paladin fell ill with complications and the couple, recognising that faith did not always protect unborn children, fell back to their small wooden church. Their child was born in the middle of a harsh winter, a blessing that they did not begrudge for the limits she placed on them, they ministered to the village they had settled amongst and set an example for the despairing people around them. For five years, this was their life, protecting their patch of Damara from Vassa’s legions and raising their child until, with the stirrings of adventurers to the south, the undead became restless and lashed out on a new offensive. The child’s father felt them coming with the setting of the sun and the blanketing of the land in darkness and sent his prayers to Lathander to protect his family and those people around their church whom had begun to follow the Sun-God. They were not to know that the bright thorn in Vassa’s side had been singled out for eradication and that the forces which fell upon that village did so at the personal order of the witch king. The priest raised his mace whilst undead smashed down the village’s wooden palisade and swarmed over the militia and through the night the darkness was broken by his prayers, undaunted by the screams of the dying. Her father fought with valour for his homeland yet his foremost prayer was that the undead be driven back before they threatened the church where his wife and child hid at his command. It was the one prayer, in his life, that was not met by Lathander’s will. He was driven back by the wretched host until he, and the handful of villagers left, had gathered at the steps of the church where a young acolyte had taken to ringing the bell. A rallying cry to them, it stirred his wife’s heart, in which she knew she could not honour her husband’s command. She kissed her daughter’s forehead and pressed her holy symbol into the young girl’s hand before she had an acolyte help her into armour she had not worn since she took to following the path of motherhood. The child watched, understanding of far more than any of them realised, as her mother drew the sword from her belt and knelt in final prayer to Lathander. The child, pressed against the window, watched as her father was dragged to his knees. His faith crumbling in those final moments as blood gushed from wounds he no longer had the strength to heal – the mother’s final prayer was answered by her God. He did not die a broken man, though it was by her hand that his faith remained intact. Her warcry boomed across the burning village as she burst from the church doors. Lathander’s light burning in her eyes, her fury divine as golden armour banished the chill of the night. She smashed through the ranks of the enemy and fought her way to her husband’s side. Standing vigil over him, his death did not diminish her anger and through the long hours beyond midnight she fought alone to protect their beacon of Lathander’s faith, and the precious children cloistered within it. Yet even she, with all her might, could not withstand the final wave that fell on her. As she fell and saw fire beginning to take the church, she heard, over the din of the undead and the church bell’s ringing, a cry that answered her own. A dozen voices calling for the light, a heavenly choir within an ardent warcry – beyond the village others had come. Sent by her god, the mother died as Lathander brought the sun to rise some hours before the dawn. The sun’s first rays kissing her cheek a final time while members of her order fought their way through the small army’s remnants. They surrounded the body of their fallen comrade and burst into the church, rescuing the children caged within that burning building. The last child they found was one knelt before the altar in prayer she would not cease even as they dragged her from the collapsing ruin. The child’s hope and belief, was thought by them, to have been the prayer that Lathander answered with his dawn. She did not wish for her mother to die in darkness. Yet, as they dragged her free, she dropped her mother’s symbol and struggled free of the paladin’s arms. She ran back into the burning church and, though the symbol was trapped beneath a burning rafter, she grabbed it in her hand and held it, ignoring the sizzle of her skin as hot metal and gem burned into her palm – she was hauled out a second time, dragged clear just as the church collapsed and the last of the undead were driven from the village. Yet the dread horror of the undead was made apparent as the search for survivors begun. Aside from the mother, not a single body could be found within the gutted village. Defeated but not despairing, the paladins took the children with them and retreated south into safer regions. Her mother, for reasons unknown to the church, would not answer the call of resurrection, yet she had not left her child without means. The child helped to bury her mother at the top of a hill, facing east to greet each dawn. Her hand was healed, but Lathander’s sign could not be cleansed from her palm, no matter the spell used. She was, in this time, a silent child who answered only two of the many questions she was asked. Firstly, she gave her name as ‘Mir’ in honour of her mother. Secondly, she said she wished to remain with the church, who took her in and despite their better judgement, returned three years later to the ruined village and rebuilt her parent’s parish. Vassa had been defeated in this time and the site was one venerated by those that knew of the battle that had taken place there. Mir’s education in matters of faith and art continued through this time and around the church, that was doubled in size and built with stone, the village began to grow again. It was here, and in these years, that Mir shone as a wise and pleasant child who was given to dancing in the sun’s first light before praying to the god that she loved no less for her parent’s death. The witch-king’s lieutenant, who had survived that night and lingered in a hidden lair within the mountains, took offence to this and, five years to the night after his assault on the village, he sent his followers and minions to attack Lathander’s church again. The clerics who ran the small church were not as powerful as Mir’s parents had been, yet the met the undead with valour and faith all the same. Mir, cloistered with the church, heard the bell ring and saw Lathander’s light being unleashed, again. With her holy symbol in hand, the young girl left the church and saw, for herself, the true evil that festered in the broken hearts of those that chose necromancy as a means to gain power. The ruined body of her father led a host made up of the dead villagers from five years ago. Mir’s blood erupted, in that moment. Her heritage igniting a fury no child should know as she ran back into the church and broke into its small vault. She took her mother’s sword in hand, leaving the shield which was too heavy and threw herself into the melee. Screaming her mother’s old warcry, her ferocity drove the militia into a frenzy and set the church priests to burn with conviction, against which, the undead could do little but fall to ash and ruin. It was Mir’s own blow that broke her father’s body a second time, freeing his soul and clasping his hand as, through the strength of his liberated soul, he smiled up at her a final time before leaving Faerun forever, to join with his wife in the heavens. Mir left the village the next day. Striking out at dawn, against the wishes of the priests, she took the road to the nation’s capital and once there, found employ polishing the swords and armour of a kindly old warrior who, in exchange, gave her board and taught her to use her mother’s sword. She grew, in those years, and returned to the small village on her sixteenth birthday. She greeted the church priests with a warm smile that did not break even as she took her mother’s armour from the vault and strapped shield to her arm. Guided now by a light within her soul that they could not question, she set out into the wilderness. Alone but undaunted by that, she travelled north into the mountains, helping those that she met along the way until, following Lathander’s whispers, she found a small cave in the mountainside. It was there that she did battle with the last vestiges of one of the witch-king’s surviving lieutenants and deep beneath the earth where she found his hidden lair. While she, alone, was no match for that dread abomination, her mother guided her arm and her father kept her heart strong as vengeance drove her into an impassioned frenzy. She destroyed the lich and brought his lair to collapse yet knew, in her heart, that he was not truly vanquished. To face him a second time, Mir knew that she would need to grow into her mother’s armour. For now, she had driven the lich back to his primary lair, deep within Vassa and she had not the strength to pursue him there and so, she followed her god and took the road south, turning her back to Damara and setting out on a path of adventure that has taken her across the Heartlands, through Cormyr and up to the sword coast. Learning what she can and spreading Lathander’s light as a beacon into the darkest corners of the world that she can reach, Mir’s passion for life is matched only by her devotion to Lathander and, indeed, her furious loathing for the undead and all that would use such abhorrent magic to further their own goals. Recently, she has begun to feel drawn back to her homeland and has left the Border-Kingdoms to, once more follow her heart, no matter where it might lead her and against what foes it might bring her. Character Sheet (note: stats and saves etc... not yet modified by inventory. Saving that for later ) Name: Mir Lovric Race and Age: Aasimar, 23. Class and levels: Fighter(2)/Cleric(5)/Morninglord(10) Height and Weight: 5'8” 140lbs. Eyes and Hair: Sea Green, Brown. Alignment:Chaotic Good Deity:Lathander Allegiance:The Church of Lathander Challenge Level:18 Caster Level: 18 Abilities and modifiers: • Str: 16 (+3) • Dex: 13 (+1) • Con: 14 (+2) • Int: 14 (+2) • Wis: 22 (+6) • Chr: 22 (+6) HD: (2d10/5d8/10d8+(3x17)) Initiative:+1 Speed:20ft Reach:5ft/5ft Encumbrance: • 76lbs(light) • 77-153lbs.(medium) • 154-230(heavy) Saving Throws: • Fortitude: +16 • Reflex: +5 • Will: +17 Base Attack Bonus: +12 • Melee Attack:+15/+10/+5 • Ranged Attack: • Special Attack: Special Abilities: Racial: • +2 to wisdom and charisma • Outsider (Native) • Darkvision (60ft.) • Cast Daylight once/day • Resistance (5) to Acid, Cold, Electricity. • +2 to listen and spot • Level Adjustment (+1) Class Granted: Spontaneous Healing Spontaneous casting of all spells with a light descriptor Bane of the Restless – PrC levels stack with cleric levels for the purposes of Turn Undead. Lathander’s Light – Whenever a Morninglord casts a spell with a light descriptor, it’s area of effect is doubled. Creative Fire – Add Morninglord levels to all craft and perform checks. Daylight – May cast daylight once per day Searing Ray – may cast Searing Ray once per day, if this is used against undead, apply ‘Empower Spell’ to the spell. Greater Turning – Twice per day may use Greater Turning. This stacks with the Sun Domain ability. Blessing of Dawn - +2 morale bonus on will saves from Sunrise to noon. Must be able to see the sun. Maximise Turning – Once per day a Morninglord can automatically achieve the highest possible result on a Turning roll. Rejuvenation of the Morn – Once per tenday a Morninglord may pray for an additional hour during the dawn. This prayer may either: Heal the cleric to full health. Remove all poisons and diseases. Fully restore ability damage due to Poison or Disease. Aura of Radiance – The light of Lathander perpetually shines on his priest. No matter how dark it is, the cleric sees as well as though in a sunrise. Also gains a +2 to saves against spells with a ‘dark’ descriptor, and a +2 to AC vs. Undead. Skills: • Concentration (con): 15 (13) • Craft: Armourer (int): 7 (5) • Diplomacy (chr): 13 (7) • Knowledge: Religion (int): 15 (13) • Listen (wis): 8 (0) • Perform: Singing: 13 (7) • Ride (Dex): 6 (5) • Sense Motive (wis): 11 (5) • Spellcraft (int): 14 (12) • Spot (wis): 8 Feats: Power Attack Improved Bull Rush Leap Attack Improved Turning Shock Trooper Extra Turning Initiate of Lathander Divine Might – Add Chr bonus to weapon damage for rounds equal to chr bonus Spells/day And Domains: Sun and Strength May add the following to her spell list 1 Rosemantle – target gains a +1/level bonus to save against effects that include: pain, sickness, nausea, fear. 3 Sunrise – burst of light that blinds and damages creatures. 5 Shield of Lathander – touched creature gains DR 15/- for one round 7: As Shield of Lathander, except DR20/-, Immunity to Negative Energy and Energy Drain, and Resistance to Acid, Cold, Electricity, Fire, Sonic (10) 9th: Undeath’s Eternal Foe. 0th 6 1st 7+1 2nd 7+1 3rd 5+1 4th 5+1 5th 5+1 6th 4+1 7th 2+1 Inventory: • Head: Headband of Wisdom +4 • Eyes: Mask of sweet air Wearer may breath safely in fouled air, without suffocation. Immune to airborne stench and poison attacks. Water Breathing, always on. • Neck: Scarab of protection. 20 spell resistance Can absorb 12 of the following attacks, before it is destroyed. Energy Drain Death Effect Negative Energy • Torso: • Body: +3 Breastplate of Command (+calling) +2 competence bonus on all Charisma based checks. +2 to Leadership All allies with 360 feet become braver than normal. Called armour. • Waist: Belt of Holy Might +2 Natural AC +4 Strength Magic Circle against evil, 1/day Word of recall 1/day (only to the nearest temple of Lathander) • Shoulders: Cloak of Charisma +4 • Wrists: None . • Hands: Gauntlets of the siegebreaker. +2 Strength Ignores hardness of inanimate objects and deals 2d6 damage when striking solid surfaces. Knock 3/day • Left Ring: Vesharoon’s Binding +3 resistance bonus on saves vs. Necromancy spells +2 Resistance bonus on saves vs. the attacks and magic of the undead +2 Deflection bonus to AC vs. Undead. • Right Ring: Master’s Ring +6 enhancement bonus to Con +4 Natural bonus to AC Longstrider always on (+10 to base speed) • Boots: Winged. • In Hand: ‘Wrath’ +5 Adamantine Longsword +2 Holy (good aligned, +2d6 vs. evil.) +1 Bane (Undead) +1 Ghost Touch +1 Silent Strike – Silence, on target, on hit. Greater Anchoring – Dimensional Anchor, one minute, on hit. • Shield: Sacred Lion’s Shield +3 heavy steel shield. Animated. Shield may make a ‘bite’ attack 3rounds/day. 2d6 damage, uses wielders attack bonuses. Sacred (+2 to effective level during turning checks.) Handy Haversack Nightstick (+4 turn undead attempts) Rod of Extend Spell (extend spell 3/day) Treasure: Beyond the items she needs for adventuring, not an awful lot. She's a sucker for charity, and games of dice. Category:Aasimar Category:Fighter Category:Cleric Category:Morninglord Category:Chaotic Good Category:Inhabitants